I had this dream while still living at home in Toronto when I was, perhaps, eighteen years old.
It was the middle of the night, and I was walking along the cliffs that border the Humber River. I was naked, but this did not seem to bother me. My white skin, in contrast to the blackness of night, glowed with a strange luminosity.
I could see some objects further along my path. Partially buried in the earth or entangled among the roots of trees, I could see canvases, drawings, and a cloth-bound book. These were my works, and what I had accomplished in life.
To my right was a stream, deep and cool, with fast-flowing water. In joy, I ran along the earthy bed bordering the stream, and suddenly did a hand-spring. First one hand plunged into the cold earth, then another. I turned my body in mid-air, moving my feet over my head.
But, when I landed, it was no longer on the cold comforting earth. Instead, I had plunged fully in my nakedness into the freezing water of the fast-flowing stream. I attempted, with one decisive gesture, to grasp the root of a plant growing there on the earthen bed. But the plant I sought exceeded my reach.
And stilled in this strangely poetic pose, I sunk to the dark bottom of the stream. Frozen - like a statue.